Lipstick, Longing, and another L-Word
by Cerulean Grace
Summary: Jericho spent her childhood confessing her love to any man that would listen. Tragically, confessing to women isn't as easy. A series of stories for GuilaxJericho.


Guila sighs, gentle as always as her breath causes dew drops on the window's glass. It's September, one of her favorite months: warm and forgiving enough to be summer, but slowly transitioning to a season that doesn't cause her to be drenched in sweat beneath heavy armor. Her sigh is a small, barely audible breath; yet, its met with frustrated attention in the sound of an angry huff.

"Will you stop that already?!" said frustrated party snaps (with way too little aggression to be taken as a serious threat).

"Stop what?" Guila turns to the silver haired girl sitting at her kitchen table, cocking her head and her eyebrows with oh-so much innocence. She rewarded herself with mental applause; in another world, with less wars and more parents, she could have been a lovely actress.

"You're sighing. I'm not bending on this!"

Guila smirks, letting the sarcasm wet her lips,"Oh? But you've always been known to be so reasonable-"

"Gah!" the first noise Jericho can sputter out, "Shush! It's my birthday, anyways, so I think I should be able to do what _I_ want!" She criss-crosses her legs on the kitchen's wood chair, daring Guila to correct her unladylike positioning. Luckily, the other girl let's the position slide.

"I'm just so _good_ at throwing parties, Jericho!" Guila let's out, ashamed that it tumbles from her throat in a childlike whine. "It's peaceful right now, I'm sure a _ton_ of fellow knights would come. How fun would that-"

"Not fun at all." Jericho immediately cuts off. "I hate most of the other knights. Especially the guys. And that's… almost all of them." A grimace flickers across Guila's lips as she too thinks about some of the men they share a career with. "See!" Jericho points accusedly, slapping her other hand against the wood of the table, "You just thought of men and immediately reacted like that! Why would I want them around to celebrate my birthday."

"Fine," Guila relents. "But then, why not just celebrate with the two of us?"

"Because I invited Ban. You'll get along fine." Jericho shrugs nonchalantly.

Guila gives a subtle glance down, keeping her eyes to the floor. "So I can join you on a birthday date of sorts?"

Jericho spits tea back into her teacup. "No way!"

"Oh?"

"He's more like… I don't know. An annoying friend. Or a brother-" she hesitates on the word, and something deep and pained crosses her gaze, "Or maybe not. Either way, though, I'm over that phase." She places her cup down, rising from the table. "I even invited Elaine. Her and I are friends now, too. I think."

"You think?" Guila giggles softly.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I didn't get a confirmation or anything. And it's not like I have many examples, besides you."

Guila smiles at that, though Jericho is too busy putting her dish into the sink to notice the tint of pink through Guila's cheeks.

Finally, the silver haired knight makes her way through the door. "So, tomorrow I'll see you! We'll get dinner, just the four of us! Ban said we've gone through enough stress that they'll serve us free ale at the tavern."

"Sure," Guila smiles, "The four of us will have a lovely evening."

Or something like that.

Jericho doesn't hate dresses. She makes a show of pretending she does: she makes a show of rejecting _all_ aspects of life that are feminine. But deep in her core, she _does_ enjoy dresses. Her blue skirt blows in the late summer breeze, and she likes the way the fabric feels against her legs. Plus, Guila had once said she looked _quite_ adorable in said dress: such a compliment didn't hurt.

As if appearing from Jericho's imagination, Guila is suddenly waving at her from down the road. She walks elegantly, black hair tucked in a lacy headband; she'd also presented herself in a dress for the evening, pink and covered in lace details.

Jericho, forgetting that she's trying to be "pretty" for the evening, starts a brisk jog to her friend. Guila smiles watching her approach. "Happy Birthday, Jericho! You look nice, I do love that dress on you."

"That's why I wore it!" Jericho confesses instantly, before both of them blush at the words. Luckily, this isn't the first time Jericho had let out embarrassing truths: Guila blushed, but otherwise didn't prod at the confessions. Jericho didn't know whether to be thrilled or disappointed by that.

"Anyways," Jericho quickly covers, "I told Ban we'd meet him at the tavern. He cooks pretty well, so…"

"Whatever you want to do, Jericho." Guila smiles, and hooks her arm through the other girl's. "It's your day, after all."

"I just want to hang out with you, and get the good food and free booze."

"If that's what you want, then of course we will."

Peace settles over the two girls as they, arm-in-arm, make their way to the outskirts of town until the tavern comes into sight. The tavern is oddly calm, quiet and not bustling with its usual crowd.

The girls make their way inside, not exactly seeing whom they expect.

Ban is there, as expected. The man whistles to himself as he lays out a plate of delicious looking food. "Hey, ladies. Happy Birthday- hope you aren't vegetarian, because that isn't who I was cooking for!"

"I'm not," Jericho practically moans, immediately grabbing a seat. Guila comes up beside her, hands folded.

"Where's Elaine?" Jericho asks, already grabbing a fork.

Ban grimaces, looking not too pleased with the question. "Well, she had some business to attend to in the forest. Her and King have been taking turns with the responsibilities. It's her weekend," his frown goes deeper, "Which means I'm stuck with-"

"Hey now," a brunette fairy sways lazily in the air, popping up from the other side of the bar where he seems to be doing dishes. "Don't go acting like you don't like my company."

"Haaah~? Who _could_ like your company. Sorry you get stuck with him, Jericho. But he doesn't leave my side, I guess, so he'll be joining in the late night booze fest."

"By late night booze fest," Jericho interrupts, "I think you mean my birthday dinner?"

"Sure, sure. Of course. Any excuse to get drunk!"

Jericho pouts, but knows that he is teasing. Ban puts another plate in front of Guila, who Jericho can tell is a bit uncomfortable in the tavern setting. She's much too refined for Ban's drunken shenanigans. Jericho, knowing this full well, passes her a fork. "Here, try some," she smiles reassuredly.

Guila nods thankfully, taking a bite. Her smile spreads. "This is amazing, Sir Ban"

"Just Ban is fine, but thank you," he grins. Jericho warms at the sight of them interacting: the closest two people she has.

They all make their way into their second plate of food before Jericho cares to ask. "What about Meliodas? Won't he get upset if we just… drink his ale for free?"

"Him and the princess are out of town."

Jericho is about to mention how that isn't at all an answer to her posed question, but Guila beats her to it, asking good naturedly, "Oh? Where are they travelling?"

"Who knows, who cares." Ban shrugs, unceremoniously ripping a bottle cap off with his pointed teeth and passing the now foaming bottle to Guila, who was raised too polite to reject. He tosses an empty mug to Jericho, promptly filling it from the tap.

"To Jericho!" Ban raises his mug, "Happy Birthday, may you hopefully not remember it tomorrow!"

Guila and Jericho giggle, banging their ales together.

How Jericho was the only sober person left on her own birthday, she'll never know. Curse her strangely high alcohol tolerance! Of all the typically masculine things she wanted, a high alcohol tolerance was NOT the characteristic she imagined for herself.

Ban was incoherent for at least an hour. Guila, meanwhile-

As a giggle rings against her ear, Jericho is snapped back to the present. The present is a magical place, where Guila has somehow drunkenly ended up sitting on her lap, arms thrown around her neck and giggling at just about anything into her ear. Jericho knows her friend has way too much alcohol in her system. She should be asleep, if not puking. Tomorrow, Guila would have the headache of a lifetime, and Jericho should really get her some water, thinking about it.

But, for just a minute more, she was enjoying this moment. It was her birthday, after all.

"Jericho~" Guila singsongs against her ear.

"Y-yeah?" Jericho is a ball of human heat, sweating in her hairline from a combination of alcohol, nervous embarrassment, and gay longing.

"I didn't give you your gift."

"I told you not to get me a gift." Jericho nearly pouts.

"I know. So I didn't, exactly, get you one. But I-" she hiccups, "Had a plan."

"A… plan?"

"Right!" Guila states with drunken confidence. "As you know, I have a crush on you," Guila says rather matter-of-factly.

Jericho chokes.

"Well," Guila continues, completely unphased, "I was going to kiss you. I thought, that would be a lovely gift right?"

Jericho wishes she had a liquid in her mouth, just so she could spit it out. "Gui-"

"But now," Guila moans, still uninterrupted, "my mouth tastes like beer, which I hate."

"THAT'S what's holding you back?!" Jericho sputters.

"Right." Guila slides off Jericho's lap, standing up, trying to look balanced. "So I'll kiss you tomorrow. Remind me."

"How would I just bring that up!" Jericho is flushed now, though completely unopposed to the idea.

Guila shrugs, smiling. "You'll remember, I'm sure." Her smile wavers as she stumbles a bit, and Jericho holds onto her elbow, quickly steadying her. "Thank you… maybe it would be for the best if I sat down."

"I'll-" Jericho is still in shock over the last minute, "Find some blankets" she mutters, hotly excusing herself as she gets up and stumbles behind the bar.

Immediately, she bumps into King. The fairy stares at her as if she is a stranger, and Jericho feels the heat still blooming on her collar. His eyes narrow a bit dully. "J... Joriko?"

"Are you kidding me?!" she blows up. "How drunk are you people! We fought together!"

King pauses. "Right.." he says, distant and dismissive.

"You don't remember at all, do you?!"

"I-I mean. I worked with a lot of knights, for a very short amount of time-"

"Oh save it!" She is now thoroughly hot under the collar in multiple ways. She feels her heartbeat angrily in her temples, and knows without looking that her face and ears are embarrassingly red. She goes behind the bar, slamming doors open and closed until she finally finds a supply closet of sorts. Thankfully, some extra blankets and pillows are present. It must be due to the ever-evolving slew of guests the tavern held, she pondered to herself. Nonetheless, she grabs an armful, stumbling back into the main room.

Guila has already taken a seat against the wall, where she seems to be trying her hardest not to fall asleep. She scans for the other two.

She can tell Ban was alive, at least: he's snoring heavily, and drooling onto King's pillow. King watches him with the eyes of someone who was having one million mental, hypothetical conversations, most of them argumentative. For the evening, however, he seems to show some forgiveness, because he merely laughs quietly to himself the longer he watches the drunken man sleep. Finally, he takes a seat on the pillow next to him, lounging back to catch his own rest.

Jericho yawns tiredly, watching the two men as she takes a seat next to Guila.

"Here," Jericho whispers, prodding Guila's shoulder lightly. Guila looks at her drowsily, and Jericho offers the pillow. Guila hesitates before grabbing it. With a bit more confidence, she places it on Jericho's lap.

"What-?" Jericho is confused, but quickly blushes as Guila lays her head on the pillow in her lap.

"Sh," Guila says softly, simply. "I'm resting." Immediately she drifts to sleep.

Jericho, meanwhile, is frozen in place for what could've been mere seconds, or long years. Her hands hover anxiously above the girl in her lap, not exactly knowing what to do. Finally, she gives in to her own desires, lightly placing a hand on Guila's cheek, running her fingers up to brush a silky stand of hair. It's _her_ birthday after all: the best present she could give to herself was a bit of self-indulgence.

As Jericho leans back against the wall, absentmindedly brushing through Guila's hair, she thinks back on the day as a whole. It definitely wasn't what she had expected.

As Guila nuzzles into her hand, she thinks she much prefers this birthday to what she planned.

* * *

I've been writing primarily MLM and WLW fics for this fandom for a while now, and since this fandom isn't too big on that, I have most of them hoarded in private google docs. But, my friends have begged me to upload them for convenience, so I'll be dropping a few that have been collecting dust! This one was written for my friend Kris. It has one or two more chapters, though they can also read as oneshots! As I write more for her (which I'm sure I will), I'll collect them here :). Sorry if you're following for Melizabeth, I'm trying to get back to them... Maybe one day!


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